


A Big Heart

by Benedicthiddleston



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: 3x13, Anger, Angst, Continuation, Episode: s03e13 Wilderness + Training + Survival, Fear, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Regret, Rehabilitation, Remorse, Spoilers, multi-chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-13 05:42:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17482307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Benedicthiddleston/pseuds/Benedicthiddleston
Summary: The initial injury turns out to be a lot worse than previously thought. Mac faces a long rehab, and coming to terms with what happened to him means dealing with regret and anger he can't seem to place. The rest of the team will be there for him, through the thick of it all.Continuation of 3x13 "Wilderness + Training + Survival" with spoilers!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Like the summary says - SPOILERS!
> 
> This will be a multi-chapter. Riley got away from me in the first scene, and I haven't even gotten to the scene that first came to me for this fic.

Riley stared at the ceiling from the window seat, mind vaguely counting the tiles that were spread far and wide across the spacious room at Harborview Medical Center in Seattle, Washington. The view out the window was pretty nice, but her mind was elsewhere.

The past fifty-three hours had been the longest of her life – and she’d spent two years in a Supermax. She’d ditched technology for the wilderness, eaten cattails, slept a cold night in the outdoors, jimmied a walkie-talkie after taking it off a dead body, had a gun pointed at her, exposed herself to poison oak fumes and oil, and tripped over a tree limb, leaving a nice abrasion across her right thigh. That was all before finding her surrogate brother shot and in serious trouble. It had been a painstaking three hour trek back to Freddie, and Mac’s Jeep, and another two hours to drive out of the backwoods and through smaller towns to reach Washington’s largest trauma center in the heart of Seattle. She was mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausted from the ordeal.

The monitor behind Bozer’s sleeping form beeped three times in quick succession, pulling Riley from her thoughts. She was easily distracted in her exhaustion. The yellow banner on the monitor said something about a string of PVCs – whatever those were. All Riley knew is that it had something to do with Mac’s heart. The machine didn’t make another peep, the lines across the screen keeping a steady rhythm at eighty-two beats per minute, the squiggly line consistent except for the occasional visual detour.

When they had finally arrived at the trauma emergency department, Mac had been whisked away for stabilization and a surgical consult. Riley and Bozer’s quick thinking and actions likely had a huge part in keeping Mac as stable as he was during the five hours between the initial gunshot wound and pertinent medical treatment. He’d been in a ton of pain, but as Riley drove, whipping around corners and breaking every speed limit possible, Bozer had kept up a string of conversation to keep their boy awake, alert, and distracted. Unfortunately, the bullet had done far more damage than initially thought and Mac was soon under anesthesia and in a four hour long surgery.

Riley and Bozer both got checked out, dehydration and exhaustion apparent. Bozer had suffered moderate exposure to the poison oak and was put on steroids and antibiotics for the next ten days, but he’d been released from emergency department care without much fuss after a chest x-ray and an infusion of saline. Riley, on the other hand, had to get her thigh cleaned and bandaged, a prescription for Percocet in her pocket, and her own course of antibiotics and steroids prescribed for her leg and her own mild exposure to the poison oak. She got her own infusion of saline and chest x-ray, a cat scan of her leg to ensure only tissue damage.

But most of the worry was on Mac and his own injury. Between the gunshot wound, the dehydration, and the multitude of bruising and abrasions, he went from the emergency department to surgery to the surgical intensive care unit on the sixth floor. The bullet, shot from close range, didn’t just injure his muscle, it fractured the femur, splintering into many tiny pieces and requiring intense reconstruction. Hence the long and arduous surgery. The risk for infection quadrupled over the time it took the group to reach medical treatment, which increased Mac’s risk for decompensation, sepsis, and further complications related to the bone destruction.

The waiting between their release from the emergency department and Mac’s move up to the intensive care unit after surgery had been grating on the nerves. Bozer wouldn’t stop pacing the surgical waiting room, eyes wide with fear and anticipation of any news about his best friend. Riley had sat on one of the couches, hugging her knees and replaying the scene of finding Mac over and over in her mind, a handful of tears escaping her eyes. Even in all the mess, Mac had been more worried about _them_ then his own damn well-being. Typical Mac.

Finally, the accompanying surgical resident to Mac’s surgery and the circulating nurse had come out into the waiting room with an update. As Bozer was Mac’s Power of Attorney in instances like this, they had permission to speak with him about Mac’s care. They had laid out in as few words as possible that the surgery had gone well, even with the damage inflicted and the time it had taken to stabilize, remove shattered bone, replace the bone with a titanium implant, clean the tissue, and sew the area back up. Mac was not out of the woods from infection, sepsis, or any other host of issues related to his left leg, but he was in the best place possible for the care he needed.

That had been just over ten hours prior. Once Mac had been settled into an intensive care unit room, Riley and Bozer had been allowed to visit and camp out in the rather large room, even though all they had were the extra pair of clothes that had been stored in Mac’s Jeep and their cell phones. The nurses on the floor were welcoming and accommodating, setting up a cot, showing them were they could use the restroom and take a shower, giving them toiletries, showing them where to find coffee on the floor, telling them how to get to the twenty-four hour cafeteria, and talking to them about everything they were doing to a very unconscious Mac.

Mac had yet to wake up from the general anesthesia. But he also had the good drugs coursing through his veins to manage the surgical pain, a pain pump one of the many IV pumps running into a central line sticking out of Mac’s right neck. He had needed immediate medical intervention and his veins had been poor to access due to the dehydration, so an internal jugular line had been placed while Mac was still in the emergency department. The IV pole was like a Christmas tree, four full bags of fluid in varying sizes hanging and dripping into the line. The nurses explained that Mac needed electrolytes, antibiotics, saline with nutrients, and the pain medication. Apparently his blood pressure had tanked in surgery, so a slow drip of a drug Riley couldn’t even pronounce also hung among the other lines snaking down the IV pole.

That was just the IV pole. A nasal cannula nestled in Mac’s nose, nothing hiding the deepening bruise on his right cheek or the red rash across his hairline. His left leg was propped up on two pillows, a sheet hiding the worst of the bandages and two drainage tubes. A foley catheter had been placed for accurate output measurement. There were patches on his chest for the heart monitor, a blood pressure cuff almost constantly going off on his right upper arm, and a pulse oximeter clinging to the index finger of his left hand. The thin sheet barely covered Mac’s midriff, exposing the multitude of ugly purple and dark red bruises and abrasions scattered across pale skin. He looked far worse for wear, and it made Riley sick to her stomach.

Bozer had eventually settled into the cot, drifting off to sleep after making sure Mac was safe and under the watchful eye of two nurses, an orthopedic surgeon and two surgical residents, a nurse aide, and a whole host of machines. Riley had no such luck, her mind whirling with what-ifs and images replaying in her vision as the minutes ticked by and the hours dragged on.

At some point in the past two hours, Riley had managed to get a shower and call Matty and Jack, relaying the news that Mac was in the hospital in Seattle. Jack had almost lost it had Matty not been right beside him. They had finished their mission with Ethan and his family, so Matty promised they would be on the next flight to Seattle from their current position. Riley knew why they weren’t saying any specifics – top secret, above her clearance information. All she knew is that they had gone to the Midwest.

After the phone call, Riley had taken up residence in the window seat, the quiet sounds of the unit drifting in through the crack in the sliding glass door that separated the room from the busy hall and even busier nursing station. Her phone dinged every few minutes, Jack texting her updates every thirty minutes on their timeline to Seattle, Billy responding to her chats, and other random people. Jack was also notorious for asking rather obsessively about Mac’s condition, which Riley didn’t respond to. There was nothing new – Mac was the same as he was when she had first called two hours before. He was still unconscious, still receiving the same care, and hadn’t seemed to have taken a turn for the worst. Jack was a worry-wart when it came to anything Mac-related.

The glass door slid open and one of Mac’s nurses for the day shift, Joshua, stepped in. He walked over to the monitor, mindful of a sleeping Bozer, and pushed a few buttons, reading the numbers. He ran a thermometer over Mac’s forehead, noting the temperature and permitting it to memory. He stepped over to the computer across the room, hands scurrying over the keyboard charting a whole host of information.

“What does PVC stand for?”

Josh looked up from the computer, smiling at Riley. “The heart monitor caught a few premature ventricular contractions, or PVCs. Essentially, Mac’s heart was trying to beat too early. It’s a common side effect from the blood pressure drip we’re giving him, the norepinephrine.”

Riley nodded. She didn’t exactly understand it all, but the nurses were great at explaining what was going on and what it all meant in terms of Mac’s condition and potential recovery.

“Any changes? Can you give an estimate on when he’ll wake up?”

Josh tapped the mouse and closed the medical record, stepping away from the computer and towards where Riley sat. “I can’t really say when he’ll wake up. It’s up to him at this point. The anesthesia has worn off. We have him on a low dose of fentanyl to help with the pain from the surgery and the wound, but it shouldn’t be enough to keep him sedated. Honestly, this is pretty common after a traumatic event. He’ll come around when he wants to.

“Unfortunately, his temperature is rising, which could be a sign of infection. He’s on antibiotics, but sepsis is still a huge risk. But know that you did the best thing for him, getting him the help he needed in the moment and getting to medical treatment as fast as possible.”

Riley stared out the window, wondering if the five hour journey to medical intervention had been too much for Mac. The three hour trek back to Freddie’s place had been unavoidable. Unfortunately, so had the two hour drive out of the backwoods into the sprawling metropolitan landscape. Emergency services would have taken just as long to reach them and get Mac to the trauma center, even by helicopter. The terrain was dangerous. It was why Mac had picked it for wilderness training. But she had no reason to believe Mac wouldn’t make it – he was young, fit, and strong-willed. If anyone could come out the other side of this better than before, it was Angus MacGyver.  

“Can I get anything for you? Do anything for you?”

Riley shook her head. The nurses had been so accommodating, treating Riley and Bozer like they were family, including them in Mac’s care.

Josh slipped from the room, quiet as always. And Mac – Mac kept on sleeping, oblivious to the world, oblivious to what had really happened to him.

The phone chirped again and Riley sighed. She knew she needed to respond to Jack – tell him about Mac’s fever, possible infection. But she was tired. Sleep just wouldn’t come. She feared the nightmares that would prevail. Nightmares about getting shot, about finding Mac dead over that embankment, about finding Mac dead from his gunshot wound, and even nightmares about Bozer getting hurt.

The trip had been vital to their continued growth as covert agents with the Phoenix Foundation. Learning wilderness survival skills was crucial in case something went wrong when they were in the field. And they had learned so many important facts, even put them into practice. She just hadn’t realized how close to home it was going to feel trying to save Mac’s life after a random run in with thieves. And they were all dead – the money burned. Of course Mac had figured out a way to turn the tables on the bad guys. But they were never supposed to run into the bad guys. It was supposed to be a three day wilderness survival training exercise. Mac had run probably over a hundred of them in his time with DXS and Phoenix. Even Freddie was used to the training exercises. This one just had to go sideways – and wasn’t that just the story of their team’s entire existence?!

Riley leaned her head against the window, trying to fight the tears. Tears of exhaustion, tears of relief, and tears of fear. She felt the pull of unconsciousness, fighting it every step of the way. Someone had to be awake when Mac woke up. But she lost the battle, eventually closing her eyes and slipping into a blank sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for taking the time to read! I'll update again as soon as I can.
> 
> I own nothing!
> 
> All mistakes, incorrect facts, and grammatical errors are mine - no beta, sadly.


	2. Chapter 2

The cot creaked as Bozer shifted into a more comfortable position. He’d been staring at the ceiling for almost thirty minutes, trying to convince himself to get up, find some coffee, and be alert in case Mac woke up. Upon initial waking, Bozer had noted the silent surroundings – Mac was still out to Bozer’s left and Riley had fallen asleep half sitting, half lying in the window seat to Bozer’s right. The prospect of getting up didn’t exactly appeal to Bozer – he was still exhausted, mildly dehydrated, and emotionally worn out. He’d never tell anyone this, but he’d been particularly worried about Mac ever since they had found him trying to check out on them. Keeping up a strong façade of control and spouting off random cooking show ideas and recipes that would work well with cattails during the two hour drive from the wilderness into Seattle had taken up most of Bozer’s emotional willpower.

Sighing, Bozer rolled over and sat up at the edge of the cot. He needed coffee. Being as soundless as he could, he folded the cot and shoved it into an unused corner of the room, letting himself take a deep breath and stretch with a noiseless yawn. Glancing at Riley, Bozer took note that she had fallen asleep in just her regular clothes – no blanket, no pillow, shoes a heap on the ground, and she was somehow missing her left sock. He quietly chuckled to himself and dragged out a blanket from a nearby cupboard, gently draping it over her resting form.

He found coffee in the small waiting room down the hall. It was refreshing and soothing and woke him up. _Bless coffee_. He wandered back down the hall, passing by the main nurse’s station. Two nurses sat at the desk, chatting quietly to each other about a recent book they had been reading. Bozer smiled to himself, just listening to the voices of the individuals all around him. It was so much different from the woods – no crazy ass thieves in here. More pain and suffering though. Intensive Care Units were reserved for the sickest of individuals – Mac included.

The chair screeched across the floor as Boze pulled it towards the bed, plopping down onto the cushion with an exasperated sigh. “Can’t sleep forever, bud.”

As if Mac heard him, his best friend softly moaned, head turning away from where Bozer sat. Boze sat up straighter in the chair, a hand slipping over the railing to grab Mac’s own.

“Hey, Mac. You finally coming back to us?”

The warm hand twitched, but Mac didn’t open up his baby blue eyes no matter the coaxing.

Bozer sighed wistfully, shaking his head before resting his chin on the bedside railing. Mac would wake up when he damn well felt like it. Which meant more waiting.

Riley’s phone dinged from the window seat, but she didn’t stir, her exhaustion apparent. It dawned on Bozer that maybe one of them should probably call Matty and Jack – oh, and Fred, just to let him know Mac was in great care.

Keeping one hand on Mac’s, Bozer reached into his jeans pocket and snagged his phone. Unbeknownst to him, it had been turned to silent at some point and he had missed _thirty-five calls_ _alone_ from one Jack Dalton. All within the past three hours. Matty had tried calling twice, leaving one short-and-to-the-point voicemail message. Bozer got the gist from just her message and he didn’t even bother listening to the _twenty-eight messages_ from Jack. Matty and Jack were aware of the situation and would arrive in Seattle at –

Now. Matty and Jack were likely already at the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport and headed towards Harborview. Bozer felt mild panic and relief flood him. Someone had contacted them, but who – _Riley._  

Scrolling through the plethora of text messages (sixty-two from Jack, two from an old buddy of Bozer’s, and three from Jill Morgan back home in Los Angeles), Bozer just glazed over the content. He was in no mood to answer any of Jack’s inquiries, and Jill and Ryan could wait.

A quiet moan came from the form in the bed and Bozer looked over at his best friend to watch for the moment –

“SHIT!” Bozer almost lost his composure, his reflexes just a little too slow to catch Mac’s hand before it was clawing desperately at the central line, his bandaged left hand scrabbling at the bed sheets.

“Wow, wow, MAC! No touchy, man!” Bozer yanked Mac’s hand back and away from the line, silently berating himself for not being more mindful of his friend’s condition and being too slow to stop the wicked fast reflexes of one Angus MacGyver. “That’s an important piece of equipment!”

The commotion jolted Riley awake from her nap, her body stiff from the awkward position. The blanket – _where did that come from?_ – fell to the floor as she immediately stood, mind still trying to process what exactly was happening. She took in the scene in a matter of seconds: Mac’s wide open eyes and heaving chest, Bozer clutching Mac’s right arm in an almost-death-like grip, and the obvious distress permeating from Mac’s shaking frame.  

“Mac!” Her feet carried her to Mac’s side, her hands wrapping around his left arm, mindful of the burned hand.

Obvious discomfort was written all over his face, his breathing ragged, eyes scrunching closed, eyebrows pinching tight together. Voice raspy and cracking from disuse and dryness, Mac ground out, “What the _hell_ happened?!”

“It’s gonna be okay, Mac,” Bozer tried to soothe, gently releasing Mac’s arm and grasping their hands in a tight grip. “You just woke up from anesthesia.”

“It’s Riley, and obviously Bozer. Do you – remember anything?”

Mac swallowed hard, a small moan escaping his lips. In his haste to rip out the _thing_ protruding from his neck, he’d jarred his left leg, excruciating amounts of throbbing, burning, and piercing pain traveling up, down, sideways – _everywhere_. Memories came back to him in slow motion – Washington – wilderness survival training – getting manhandled by thieves – echoes of a gunshot – pain from cracked ribs and bruised muscles – slamming a rock into Gio’s head – and losing all control over the situation when he ended up with a gunshot wound to his thigh. Riley and Bozer and Fred and –

Blue eyes flashed open as Mac ignored his protesting chest. He tried desperately to sit up, hands scrabbling ineffectively, legs flailing in pain and weakness. “Ri – Boze – are you guys _okay_?”

Bozer put a calming hand to Mac’s chest, gradually pushing him back into the pillows. “Dude, you’re worrying about us when you’re in far worse shape? Your self-preservation skills need work.”

A button materialized in Mac’s vision, Bozer waving the pain pump controller like a stick for a dog. “Your very own personal pain management system. Use it – and stop trying to get out of bed. You aren’t going to be up and walking for a while.”

Energy waning, Mac’s body sagged back into the mattress, eyebrows still pinched in worry and confusion. He reluctantly took the pain button from Bozer and pushed it – whatever good drugs he was receiving, it could only help the agonizing burning coming from his left leg. Obviously a lot more damage than just a bullet had run him ragged. He just couldn’t remember much after getting shot. He’d somehow made it to a hospital, probably in Seattle, but he couldn’t remember the journey, and he definitely had no idea in hell what procedure he’d needed that required anesthesia. Or the damn IV line sticking out of his neck!

The medication kicked in after a couple of minutes, dimming the severity of the pain that echoed from almost every part of his body. Mind still feeling fuzzy, Mac glanced at his two friends. “Okay. Start over. What happened? What – where am I?”

Bozer looked at Riley, concern on his face. “I’m gonna go get Josh. Riley, fill him in?”

She nodded as he turned and sprinted from the room, voice echoing back as he reached the nurse’s station, asking for Josh.

Riley squeezed Mac’s arm, rubbing it affectionately. “We’re at Harborview Medical Center in Seattle, Mac. After you got shot, we got you back to Fred’s and the Jeep and raced for the hospital. It took – it took a long time, but we eventually got here. You were in bad shape. They had to perform surgery on your leg. You’re in the surgical intensive care unit. It’s hard to explain what the surgeon did, but –“

“Never mind me. What about you? Are you okay? Did they hurt you? Because if they did, I’m gonna –“

Riley stopped his rant with a teasing roll of her eyes, head shaking in disbelief. “Mac. I’m okay. They didn’t hurt me or Boze. I tripped over a tree branch and got a good scratch on my leg, but I’m okay. We’ll be on antibiotics for a few days to ward off pneumonia from the poison oak fumes, but we aren’t the ones lying in a hospital bed. It’s you we’re worried about.”

The right eyebrow rose in question. “Poison oak fumes?”

She just smiled, giggling. “Bozer can officially identify poison oak now. It’s how we escaped Anton. He’s the only one of the group who survived the woods. Fred promised to get the local police to hunt him down.”

A commotion could be heard outside the sliding glass door, a too-familiar voice demanding to see one Angus MacGyver _immediately_. Seconds later, after someone more than likely answered the belligerent Delta, the door slid open. A herd of people marched into the room, Jack leading the pack.

“MAC!”

Bozer tried to tell Jack not to overwhelm the man, but Jack was beyond reasoning at that point. Just seeing his kid lying in a hospital bed, leg propped up on pillows and apparent injury _everywhere_ , caused Jack to lose whatever resolve he had remaining after the three and a half hour plane trip and associated travel in multiple vehicles that had just prolonged their separation. Mac was alive – but just _barely_.

“Dalton, calm down,” Matty groused, face pinched in frustration, hands on her hips. She had dealt with the Delta’s anger, worry, and impatient emotions the entire trip since dropping Ethan and his family off at their new home in Nebraska. Finding out Mac had been shot and then required surgery had thrown Jack Dalton for a loop and _then some_. Matty was about to smack her agent if she didn’t get him to heel soon.  

Mac struggled to sit up again, pain spiking through his chest, abdomen, and leg. He groaned in frustration, willing his body to be quiet for _just one second_. “Jack! Matty!” Josh was at the bedside in a heartbeat, hands already maneuvering pillows and helping adjust the bed to make sitting up more comfortable and less stress on the surgical wound.

Jack put a reassuring hand on Mac’s right leg, squeezing gently. “Hey, Hoss. Scared me there for a bit.”

“A bit?” Matty murmured under her breath, huffing in exasperation. She’d spent the entire flight listening to Jack rant and rave over the lack of communication from Riley and Bozer. He had called and texted both agents over a combined one hundred and twenty times, all while pissing off three flight attendants and the sixteen surrounding passengers that were all within earshot of Jack’s raging temper tantrum. Obviously, Matty should have sent Jack with Mac, Riley, and Bozer out into the wilderness, which would have gone just as _splendidly_. Nevertheless, Jack was finally back with his partner, so maybe the temper tantrum would dim down for a hot second – _yeah, right_.

After helping Mac sit up, Josh double checked the IV pump and settings, providing a quick explanation about the pain pump and the settings that the surgeon had agreed upon post-surgery.

“Mac, I’m Josh, your nurse for the day. I’m sure you have a lot of questions. Your primary surgeon and the rest of his team will be rounding at eight tonight and will be more than happy to answer any questions you have. In the interim, my goal is to manage your pain. The docs started you on a low dose of fentanyl continuously at twelve micrograms per hour. You have the ability to push that handy-dandy button in your lap to receive an extra twenty-five micrograms every twelve minutes if needed. You and _only you_ are allowed to push it, is that understood?”

Everyone had gone silent, even Jack. Mac nodded, acquiescing to his nurse’s instruction.

Josh smiled brightly. “Good. How is your pain doing? If zero was no pain at all and ten being the absolute worst pain you have ever experienced, what number would you give your pain right now?”

“My leg is definitely throbbing at a seven right now. My ribs are a constant five. Overall I’d say I’m a six.”

While Mac rattled off his pain number, Josh took a quick set of vitals, a small frown on his face after running the thermometer across his patient’s forehead.

“You’re running a fever, 100.8 degrees Fahrenheit. We already have you on two strong antibiotics, vancomycin and ceftriaxone, but they may not be working effectively to combat any infection you might have. Low grade fevers are common after surgery, but anything above 100.4 can indicate possible systemic infection, and we already want to fend off sepsis if we can. Your blood pressure is trending down, even on the blood pressure drip of norepinephrine. You had difficulty maintaining an adequate pressure while in surgery.

“I’m gonna take a look at your wound, take a swab sample, and call the docs. I assume we’ll draw blood cultures and start another antibiotic after that phone call. Do you have any questions or concerns regarding this line of treatment?”

Mac shook his head. He’d been sick before, he knew the drill. He’d even been shot before, even if it wasn’t a usual occurrence. The blood pressure news was somewhat concerning, especially if it was trending lower even with medication. But what Mac still didn’t understand was what exactly had happened in surgery and what the healing timeline was going to look like. That was a discussion being saved for the surgeon later that night.  

The nurse made quick work of examining Mac’s leg wound while maintaining adequate privacy and dignity, especially when Mac requested everyone stay nearby. Riley had taken back her spot in the window, Jack and Bozer were hovering near the bed, and Matty had climbed into the gigantic patient recliner, eyes closed but ears always listening. Josh finished with his task, made sure Mac had everything he needed or wanted, including a glass of ice water, and then he disappeared from the room to call the doctor.

Once Josh left the room, Jack took to occupying the vacated seat on the right side of the bed, his eyes boring into Mac for a good long stare.

“Jack, don’t start.” Mac was in no mood to hear whatever Jack wanted to rant about. He had a fever, he felt like crap, and all he wanted to do was sleep. He had already assumed that the moment Jack found out what had happened that there would be rage. The rage was never directed right at Mac, but Jack got testy when his partner was injured, and that impacted their relationship for most of the healing process.

“Oh, I haven’t even begun. Seriously, Mac. What the _hell_ happened out there?!!”

Mac groaned, leaning his head back against the pillows and closing his eyes. “I promise I’ll tell you everything – just, not right now. I feel like death warmed over.”

“You really scared me, bud. It was supposed to be a routine wilderness survival exercise. You could have done the whole thing with your eyes closed. All I know is that you ran into five of the FBI’s Most Wanted, one of those assholes survived to tell the tale, and you are lucky enough to still be _breathing_.”

There was a quick rap of knuckles on the glass door and Josh’s head poked into the room.

“Just got off the phone with the docs. I’m gonna be right back with some blood culture kits and hang a new antibiotic, then transport should be here to take you down for a CT scan. Can I get any of you anything before I come back?”

Riley, Bozer, Matty, Jack, and Mac all shook their heads, Mac quietly thanking Josh for asking. Josh disappeared and Mac sighed in frustration. If he had an infection, healing was going to take much longer.

How had everything gone so wrong so fast? Bozer wasn’t entirely wrong – self-preservation was the last thing on Mac’s mind during the entire trip. Riley and Bozer had been just as threatened by Gio and his band of thieves as Mac had been, and the only thought Mac had focused on was making sure both of his friends made it out of the woods alive. That had been the goal from the very beginning of the wilderness training exercise: get out alive. Being kidnapped, forced to lead Gio through the woods to X marks the spot, being the reason Cid got injured and then shot, not finding what Gio was looking for, narrowly escaping death a handful of times because of his smart mouth, finding the gigantic box of stolen money, watching Emma and Trevor also get killed, and then setting the box of money on fire only to wind up shot had never been in Mac’s itinerary for wilderness survival training. Exposing his friends to harm had never been a part of the experience, and Mac regretted his actions – regretted his choices. He was to blame – and that is why he was the one injured. Karma was a bitch.

Mac didn’t just blame himself – he was angry at what had happened. And all speculation in the world wouldn’t fix what was currently happening – he was in a world of hurt. Sometimes he wondered what life would have been like if he had never gotten into the covert spy profession. Less bullet holes, less broken bones. A lot less guns. How Mac hated guns. They were an unfair advantage – point in case.

Josh returned, drawing a set of blood cultures from Mac’s central line, poking Mac in the arm for another set of blood cultures, and finally hanging up a new antibiotic, this one called meropenem. By the time Josh was done, radiology was all ready for Mac.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking two to three more chapters. And I know this one ended a bit awkwardly, but my brain was like "end it already" - lol. I'm not *too* happy with the scene, but it came out pretty close to what was in my head, so hopefully you guys like it. I am far more proud of my first chapter, go figure. 
> 
> Thanks for all the love through kudos and comments! And subscribing! You guys are amazing *blows kisses*
> 
> All grammar errors, mistakes, and incorrect facts are my own fault. I am a nurse, but I don't work with orthopedic patients - bones and surgery terrify me. I stick with cancer patients and stem cells. Google and medical journals support my medical knowledge.


	3. Chapter 3

By the time Mac returned from his CT scan, he was nursing a gigantic headache and his vitals looked even worse. Temperature 101.5, blood pressure 85 over 45, heart rate in the one-teens, respiratory rate a whooping twenty-six breaths per minute. Being jostled around from bed to cart to scan table back to cart and finally back into his bed had ranked his full body pain to a nine, his left leg screaming in agony. He felt like actual _shit_.

Josh was a quick miracle worker. While Mac had been at radiology, Josh had obtained an order to increase the pain pump, increasing the continuous dose to twenty-five micrograms per hour and increasing every push of twenty-five micrograms to every eight minutes. That helped the pain. After some quick calculations, the norepinephrine dose was titrated up to stabilize Mac’s blood pressure, but worries about sepsis were floating around in the conversation occurring at the same time, so more fluids were ordered, along with Tylenol for the fever.

An hour later, Mac was feeling somewhat better, vitals stablized, pain more manageable, if not still aggravating. It was coming up on seven in the evening and shift change was about to occur, along with hopefully a visit from the surgeon and medical team. Nothing happens quickly in the hospital, which Mac had realized a _long_ time ago, and having Riley, Bozer, Jack, and Matty sit around in a boring hospital room was not ideal.

“You guys should get some rest. It’s been a long day for all of you.”

Jack protested. “I’m not going anywhere. Don’t even think I’m leaving you alone.”

“What Jack said!” Bozer chimed in, a frown on his face. Riley and he had been sitting in the window seat, quietly chatting while Jack paced the room incessantly and Matty sipped on a gigantic espresso from the coffee shop on the main floor.

“Hospitals are boring. And I don’t need to be babysat.”

Jack raised his eyebrows in further protest. He didn’t _babysit_. He was his partner’s overwatch. There was no way in hell he was leaving that hospital room until Mac himself was discharged – whether tomorrow or in a week.

The headache growing behind Matty’s eyes was enough to make her jump into the conversation, hoping to end the bickering before it even really began, full-stop.

“I want rest. Bozer, Riley, you two have had enough of the hospital environment for the time being. I’ll get us a hotel and we can find real food. Jack, you may stay, since you are so insistent. You’re stuck with the cafeteria though, I’m not coming back until tomorrow morning.”

“But Matty –“ Bozer started, his frown deepening.

“No, no arguing about this. Gather your stuff. We leave in five.” Matty grabbed her purse and glared at her two agents, her eyes very clearly saying they were coming with her, end of discussion.

Mac sighed, but didn’t argue with his boss. When she said she was going to do something, she meant it. And if that meant Jack was going to be spending the night, so be it. At least it would be _just_ Jack. Riley and Bozer needed a real bed and real food. The wilderness had been an exercise, the hospital not an expected outcome. And he wasn’t exactly a lot of fun to be around at the moment.

Matty had come up to the side of the bed, her face a blank slate. “Be good, Blondie. Jack will text me if you make trouble.”

He smirked. “I’m gonna make all the trouble, Matty.”

She smiled. It actually reached her eyes after the last seventy-two hours of mixed emotions, worry, and too much travel. She blew him a kiss. Quick as a fox, her glare was back on both Riley and Bozer, her face telling them to _get moving, now!_

Both agents were swift to get up and gather their things. Bozer just waved good-bye as Matty poked his side to get him moving out the door. Riley came up to the bed, leaving a brief kiss on Mac’s forehead and told him to feel better. He didn’t feel up to responding, only smiling up at her as she brushed back a strand of his blond hair. Then she was gone, following behind Matty as their irate boss barked at them that it was time to go!

Jack stood at the end of the bed, arms folded over his chest like he was thinking deeply about something, eyes boring into Mac’s.

“Yes, Jack?”

The older man just shook his head, sighing. “Not how I wanted my day to end.”

Mac snorted. “Not really how I wanted my wilderness survival training exercise to end either, but we don’t all get what we want, now do we?” All the talking was grating on his ribs and he could only wince at the sharp spikes of pain traveling from _everywhere_. But he watched as Jack huffed in irritation and took back to sitting in the chair near the bed, held tilted in contemplation.

There was a rapid rap of knuckles on the sliding glass door, a young man’s head peeking into the room. “Medical team coming to round. May we come in?”

Mac nodded, waving the young doctor in. Following close behind, an older gentleman, a younger female, and two middle-aged females, all wearing surgical scrubs and looking mildly exhausted, entered the room and filed around the bed.

The initial younger doctor spoke up first, introducing himself. “Mr. MacGyver, I’m Dr. James Farmstein. I participated in your surgery with my attending, Dr. Peter McGill.” He glanced back at the older gentleman, who just smiled in response. “With us today is Dr. Sarah Burns, Dr. Lauren Horner, and current medical student Hilarie. All were present for your surgery and have been participating in orders and care throughout the past sixteen hours. How are you feeling this evening?”

“Tired, aching and my leg throbs constantly. What exactly did you do to it?”

“Mr. MacGyver, when you reached our care, your leg was in pretty bad shape. While you were agreeable to surgery, which was expected for the type of gunshot wound you had incurred, the extent of the surgery could not be explained prior due to limited imaging results. When Dr. McGill and I were able to see the full extent of the injury, your femur bone had completely shattered into many tiny pieces. It is assumed the bullet was fired from a close range, which can cause that type of damage. We cleared away the damaged bone and inserted a titanium implant with screws. The bone will heal around it, but that can take anywhere from three to six months barring any complications. You are currently experiencing some type of infection that is causing a mild case of sepsis. We are treating you with antibiotics, fever reducers, fluids, and pain medication.

“The wound and blood cultures obtained earlier this afternoon will be watched closely in the lab for up to five days. If anything starts to grow, we usually are notified within twelve to twenty-four hours. At that point we can tailor the antibiotics and treatment to better fight the infection.          

“We cleaned and stitched up your leg very carefully. However, if it is the source of infection, we may need to do a procedure called debridement to clean it out further and apply local antibiotic therapy. We will know if this will be necessary once the cultures return and allow us to understand what is going on within your body.

“You came through surgery remarkably well. If we can get this infection under control, you can be up and moving about the room and unit in a couple of days. The sooner you are on your feet, the better. The pain can be managed, and we will work closely with you to appropriately manage any concerns. Once we feel that you are improving, we can discuss discharge. You are from Los Angeles, is that correct?”

Mac nodded. “I was leading a wilderness survival group out near Mount Rainier National Park, near Snoqualmie Pass, when we ran into hunters. Unfortunately, only one of them survived the elements due to poor prepping on their part. My two friends walked away with a few minor injuries, so nothing like my gunshot wound. I help conduct wilderness survival exercises for groups about once every other month. It’s usually pretty calm and collected. Nothing like this trip.”

“We will do our best to get you back home, Mr. MacGyver. Your vitals look stable right now. Your night nurse will call the on-call surgeon for any changes in condition. We hope to get you off the blood pressure medications as soon as possible, but we want to get the sepsis contained before pulling back from them too quickly.”

Hilarie pointed to the latest blood pressure. “BP 105/46, mean arterial pressure is 66. The norepinephrine may be losing effectiveness. Would you suggest vasopressin as an alternative or an addition, Dr. Farmstein?”

The chair creaked as Jack shifted in his spot. All the big medical words were making him slightly nervous. He understood maybe half of what was being discussed. Mac was sick, and not just from the bullet. Jack knew that it had taken quite some time to reach medical care after the initial injury. While Bozer and Riley had done a bang up job controlling bleeding and stabilizing Mac for travel, the one thing they couldn’t control was the germs from the bullet, the environment, and even Mac’s body itself. Jack just hoped the doctors could figure out a treatment plan and get their boy back home to Los Angeles, leg still attached and all that good stuff. Which brought up the scary fact that Jack didn’t know if Mac would lose his leg. _Shit, no!_

Dr. Farmstein nodded at Hilarie. “An additional vasoconstrictor would not be uncalled for. If the blood pressure continues to trend down, it would definitely be warranted. We’ll talk to Olivia.”

Jack cleared his throat. “Hey, docs, worst case scenario, could Mac possibly lose his leg?”

All the color drained from Mac’s face. “JACK!”

Dr. McGill stroked his very manicured mustache, contemplative. “It isn’t necessarily the outcome we are aiming for, however there is a low probability of loss of limb. Harborview prides itself on being the only level one trauma center in the state, and with that prestige comes positive statistics and outcomes. I am confident that it will not and should not come to that.

“However, Dr. Farmstein is correct in preparing you for the possibility we may have to proceed with a second surgery, a debridement procedure. Sometimes certain infections can be very tricky to eradicate. You had a long period between the initial wound and adequate medical treatment with antibiotics. Any number of germs could have gotten into your blood stream through the wound and your shattered femur. We are more than likely dealing with more than one organism attacking your body, Mr. MacGyver.”

Mac looked slightly overwhelmed with all the new information, and he normally could handle loads of facts and figures. His brain was working overtime to comprehend just what _could_ happen to him – loss of limb, long-term infection, and so much more. _I knew Gio was going to shoot me. Maybe shooting me dead would have been preferable_.

He took a calming breath, hoping to get one more piece of information from the docs before they took their leave. “What does long-term recovery look like, pending the infection and possible procedure?”

“If we can get your infection under control and start healing your leg wound, we can hope to discharge you from the hospital within the week. You’ll need extensive physical therapy, inpatient and outpatient. Usual course of treatment for physical therapy is about ten to eighteen weeks, depending on how you progress. Because we will be sending you back to California, we will transfer your medical record and therapy orders to the doctor of your choice. Pain will be a concern for quite some time, and as we said, we will help manage it the best we can and get you on a pain management plan that works best for you and your activity level. You’ll discharge on oral antibiotics, as long as the infection is not a resistant organism. Those type of infections tend to last longer and are harder to clear, so they require longer courses of antibiotics, usually preferred through an IV. We will cross that bridge if it comes to that.

“Overall, healing will take anywhere from three to six months, depending on your physique, strength, wound healing, and infection response. You will likely not be holding any wilderness survival exercises for at least six months.”

Mac shrugged. “That doesn’t necessarily disappoint me. But, when can you take out this thing?” He pointed at the ugly ass line sticking out of his neck. It was a constant irritation, the tubing flopping everywhere and the skin itching under the dressing.

Dr. Farmstein chuckled. “Well, until we have a handle on your infection and clear the sepsis, we are going to keep it in. Probably a couple more days. Then we can switch to a peripheral, or if needed, a peripherally inserted central line that can be used more long term. That’ll depend on your culture results and response to the antibiotics. Plus, the blood pressure medications need to be infused through a central line due to their tendency to harm small veins like those in your arm.”

“Okay.” Mac looked mildly disappointed that they couldn’t take the line out right then and there, but he understood why. He would live with it – for now.

“Any other questions from us?”

Mac shook his head, resting his head back against the pillows and scrunching his eyes closed while his left leg stabbed him with a new wave of fiery pain. The pain button was near his right hand, his fingers brushing over the solidness of the object. He knew he needed the medication. He wasn’t sure why he couldn’t push the button.

The doctors silently filed out of the room, the sliding glass door shutting with a soft whoosh. The clock in the room showed it was nearly eight-fifteen at night. Josh had long gone home and Mac would have a new nurse now. Whoever they were would eventually come in for night time medications and an assessment. Mac would deal with being woken up. But until then –

“I’m tired, Jack. Get some sleep.”

His partner nodded, standing up from the chair and stretching before heading to dim the lights and pull out the cot that Bozer had shoved in the corner earlier that afternoon. The lights went low and Jack got himself situated on the cot, eyes always on Mac’s small form in the big bad bed, surrounded by machines and strange surroundings.

Mac pulled the blanket closer to his chin as he closed his eyes, feeling Jack staring at him. It was an old habit to kick, watching out for your younger partner. Mac was used to the overprotectiveness, especially from Jack. Honestly, it came from the entire mismatched family they had made of themselves. Riley, Bozer, Matty, Jill, Jack, and Mac. Maybe Jim, but Mac still was weary about the relationship held between himself and his father.

Finally feeling exhaustion pull at his waning senses, Mac punched the pain button, waiting for the sweet relief from the ever-constant pain through blessed unconsciousness.       

* * *

Olivia, the nurse for the night, woke Mac up at nine for a quick assessment, medication administration, and general meet-and-greet. Jack snored the entire way through the encounter. Eventually Mac fell back into a fitful and pain-filled sleep, but he awoke sometime after one in the morning to his brain whirling with too many emotions and thoughts that he couldn’t seem to get back to sleep.

Jack pulled himself out of consciousness not much later, his bladder protesting the need to be emptied. After completing his business in a bathroom down the hall, he crawled back into the cot and groaned, nursing his own headache from lack of food and sleep. Too much travel over the past eighty hours. He was worn out.

But Mac was the priority, and something – something was off.

Jack sat up, eyes searching Mac’s restless form. The boy was fidgety by nature, definitely since birth, but this restlessness was unexpected when Mac should have been sleeping like a baby. Something was bugging the kid.

“Okay, Hoss, I know you aren’t asleep. You’ve been quiet and extremely restless for over twenty minutes. I know you aren’t getting any rest. Plus, the last time you were this silent and awake, Bozer blamed me for breaking you with news about your father and Matty knowing each other. What is going on inside that freaky brain of yours?”

A quiet sigh came from the bed. The lights were dim enough that Jack couldn’t quite see Mac’s facial expression, but it didn’t matter. His boy was churning over too much in that big brain of his and it was causing undue stress.

“You remember when – when I was trying to rescue that class from a sinking ship in the Arctic Ocean?”

Jack furrowed his brows, confused as to why Mac was bringing up Zoe _now_ of all moments. “I remember. But I don’t really get –“

“I feel responsible, Jack. I’ve always felt responsible for Zoe’s death. And I feel just as responsible for everything that happened out in those woods. I – I got three people killed, let Riley and Bozer get hurt, and I – I –“ He sucked in a lung full of air, struggling to speak what was on his mind. The emotions were strong. The choices he had made out in the woods had cost so many lives, and he had – he had killed someone. Not by accident. Purposefully. And no one should have died. Not over – not over money. Not from an iceberg. No one should have died under his watch. He had done so much wrong, he just couldn’t – couldn’t forgive himself.

Jack was by Mac’s side in a matter of seconds. “Angus, look at me.”

Mac’s arms were shaking, chest starting to heave as his right hand went knuckle white, grip tight to his bandaged left hand. He was on the verge of a panic attack. He couldn’t focus. Couldn’t stop seeing images of Cid, Trevor, Emma, Gio, Riley, Bozer, and Freddie – everyone flashed in his brain on loop. _No, no, no, no, no, no!_

Jack gently shook Mac’s shoulders, leaning in and shoving his face as close to Mac’s as he dared. “ANGUS. Stay with me, buddy. Listen to my voice. You didn’t do anything wrong! You aren’t to blame. You aren’t to blame.”

Hot tears started coursing down Mac’s cheeks, eyes wide open and unseeing. Jack cursed himself, lightly slapping Mac’s cheek. “Don’t do this to me, Mac. Come on, talk to me.”

As if struck by lightning, Mac went immediately still, hands relaxing in his lap.

“Come on, Mac. Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on in that brain of yours. I can’t read your mind.”

Mac’s eyes moved, blue irises finding Jack’s persistent stare, eyelids blinking slowly. “Jack?”

The older man heaved out a sigh of relief. _Damn panic attacks_. “Yeah, bud, it’s me. Scared me. You want to talk?”

Mac blinked, processing Jack’s words. He visibly shuddered, eyes scrunching closed in discomfort. “I killed someone, Jack. I killed someone with a rock. I – I got multiple others killed. I was an idiot. Everything just went so – so wrong. Riley got hurt. I couldn’t keep them safe. I failed them – I failed them.”

Jack put a firm hand on Mac’s chest, feeling the beating heart below bruised and aching bones. This wasn’t the first time Mac had killed someone. It wouldn’t be the last. This wasn’t the first time he had let Riley or Bozer get harmed. But it wasn’t – it was never directly Mac’s fault, even though he put all the blame on himself every time. It broke Jack’s heart to see his kid hurt. When it came to family, Mac was fiercely protective of those he loved and cherished. Nothing stood between Mac and his family, _nothing_. And Mac had seen Riley and Bozer with his own two eyes earlier that day. They looked none worse for wear. Exhausted, hungry, and still somewhat dehydrated, but alive and relatively unharmed. Whatever had happened in those woods, Mac was feeling intense guilt for the choices he had made. And Jack needed to set his boy straight.

“Mac. You didn’t fail anyone. Riley and Bozer are safe and sound, sleeping at a nearby hotel with Matty. They are okay, and you kept them safe.

“You weren’t the one to pull the trigger. You didn’t kill those guys. You can’t blame yourself for something completely out of your control. I know you got a big heart, bud, but you can’t blame yourself for every little things. It would cripple you. That brain got too big a smarts to fall for such silly notions.”

The younger man sniffed, the tears finally drying up. “I didn’t pull the trigger, but I was the reason they were killed. I – I fought tooth and nail with Gio, and because I said Cid would slow us down, he shot him. And when I said I could make a one-man carrying device for the money, he shot Emma and Trevor.”

“You were coerced into doing things for that group by gun point and threat of death, Mac. And Gio threatened to harm Riley and Bozer. You were worried about their safety above your own. You would have done anything to keep them safe. You did all the right things for all the right reasons. You aren’t to blame for the deranged mind of a mad man like Gio. He was drunk on money power.”

“And then I set his money on fire.”

It was said so quietly Jack _almost_ didn’t hear the remark. But Jack smirked, the image of his kid fooling the bad guy and then burning the goods sticking in his mind like a newspaper clipping.

“And then he shot you in the leg.”

Mac closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the pillow, face angled towards the ceiling. “And then I killed him.”

“In self-defense! Mac, this whole damn situation was a gigantic clusterfuck of coincidence. Absolutely NONE OF IT is or was your fault! Not every death is your load to bear. You couldn’t prevent Gio from turning on his partners. There are some things you can’t change. What you can change is your perception. They weren’t innocent people. I’m not saying that means they deserved to die, but you didn’t pull the trigger, Mac.

“You thought of everyone else before yourself. That is who you are. A huge heart that constantly worries about everyone else. Don’t forget about caring for yourself sometimes. I won’t always be at your side. I’ll pick up the pieces, but one day I won’t be there to do that. I won’t – I won’t say I love you, but you get the damn sentiment.”

Mac cracked a smile. “I don’t love you either, Jack.”

The older man rolled his eyes. “Glad we got that cleared up. Now, what do you have to say?”

He took a steady breath. “I did the best I could?”

“And?”

“And I’m not responsible for – for Cid, or Emma, or Trevor, or even Gio. I was trying to protect Riley and Boze. And by some extension, myself.”

Jack nodded. “Good. Anything else you want to get off that mind of yours? Cause as much as this conversation has been enlightening, we both need desperate sleep.”

Mac shook his head. “I think I’ll be okay now, Jack. But – thank you. For always being there.”

“Anytime, brother. Anytime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, all mistakes, grammar errors, and incorrect facts are my fault. 
> 
> Seriously, you guys are all too sweet and kind! Thank you for the kudos and comments, I truly appreciate every single one!
> 
> Two more chapters! Just to wrap a few things up. The scene I had in mind originally for this fic was Mac and Jack talking about Mac's responsibility for everyone. Jack had to set our boy straight on some things. I hope I did them justice.


	4. Chapter 4

The night was uneventful. The increase in pain meds helped Mac finally get a good sleep after his heart-to-heart with Jack. His vitals stayed stable. Unfortunately, nursing staff received the call that both his blood cultures and wound culture came back positive for two different organisms. Antibiotics were tweaked in hope the organisms would be defeated.

Matty, Riley, and Bozer were back at the hospital bright and early. Their returned presence forced Jack to get up, even though he really didn’t want to. Thankfully, they brought him a Dr. Pepper and a bagel.

Mac had been hoping to eat something after only nibbling on hospital food the evening prior, but he soon found out that his diet status had gone from regular to nothing-by-mouth. While the surgical team had yet to stop by on rounds that morning, Mac had the foreboding feeling he was going to be headed back into surgery.

No one was really in the talking mood that morning, even though Matty tried to extract information from Jack about what the doctors had discussed while they were at the hotel. Mac seemed closed off to them all, eyes closed and right hand clutching the pain button. Bozer recognized his best friend’s distress, so he was determined to release the tension.

“You look tense.”

Mac’s right eye opened a fraction, blue iris giving Bozer a penetrating stare. “Hmm?”

Bozer smiled, shaking his head in laughter. “Come on, man. That big brain of yours is going at full speed. You got that look on your face. You’re too quiet.” He had taken the empty chair by the bed, muted conversation between Matty and Jack going on behind him near the window seat, Riley having escaped the room to take a tour of the hospital gift shop. Shift change was occurring out at the nurse’s station and the unit was calm for the most part. Bozer knew Mac too well not to know something was going on in that big brain of his. Even though no one could actually read the kid’s mind – maybe _one_ day.

A long-suffering sigh was somewhat agonizingly drawn from the form lying in the bed. “Just – thinking. If something happens, you know you’ll be forced to make a decision that could alter my entire life, right?”

Bozer’s eyes went wide in shock and confusion. “ _What?_ What the hell are you talking about, Mac?!”

He shifted in bed, right hand starting to fiddle with the bandage wrapped around the burn on his left hand. Nervous didn’t even begin to explain what Mac was feeling. He was – was _terrified_. “I could lose my leg, Boze.” He spoke so softly, Bozer almost didn’t hear him.

Reaching out, Bozer grasped his best friend’s hands, stilling the fidgeting. “Hey, now. I’d never let that happen. Whatever the docs decide to do today, we’ll get through it. Harborview is one of the best hospitals in the state, maybe even the west coast. You’re gonna be _fine_.”

“But you don’t know that. They – they sort of explained the procedure.” Mac paused, mind trying to remember what exactly the surgeons had discussed the night before. The pain medication was dulling his senses, messing with his memory. He hated it, but the pain was strong and already clouding his mind. There was no winning the battle without managing the pain _somehow_. “They said they needed to clean out the wound. But what if that isn’t enough? This infection is serious.”

Bozer sighed, worry creeping up his spine. “They’ll find another solution. I’ll make no decision that takes your leg away, Mac. I would never do that. Trust me – I’d make them wake you up first. Make you make that decision. You can’t expect me to do that for you. You’re one of the best agents the Phoenix has. Losing your leg would be –“

“Devasting. I know.”

The older man (by about six months) was about to protest further when the glass door slid open and Dr. Farmstein and Dr. McGill walked in. They looked serious, creating even further discomfort up Bozer’s spine. Mac’s face paled, worry etched all over his facial features.

“Mr. MacGyver. Your night was relatively stable. How did you sleep?”

Mac shrugged. “Okay, I guess. Olivia told me I couldn’t eat. Is that because you plan on doing the debridement procedure?”

Dr. Farmstein nodded, a frown on his face. He seemed to relax, folding his hands behind his back. “Unfortunately, your wound culture came back positive for an organism that can be difficult to clear with just systematic antibiotics. The organism is called Bacillus cereus. Common in soil and out in the wilderness, so not unexpected considering where you were when you were originally shot. We will continue to give you vancomycin and have already changed your ceftriaxone to clindamycin to help fight the bacteria you have acquired. However, the debridement procedure will need to take place to clear away the organism because it isn’t easy to clear the infection with just intravenous antibiotics. We will clean the wound, check and change your drainage tubes, and inject a dose of another antibiotic, imipenem, straight into the tissue to work locally on the infection.”

Jack stood from his spot at the window seat, mixed emotions written across his aging face. If Mac didn’t know any better, he would have thought Jack had aged ten years since before they had left for their separate missions.

Mac focused back on the doctors, ignoring Jack’s tense posture. “Is this bacteria the same that is causing the sepsis?”

Dr. McGill shook his head. “Unfortunately, your bloodstream infection is more severe. Your blood cultures came back positive for a common resistant strain of Staphylococcus aureus called MRSA – methicillin-resistant staph aureus. We will continue you on the vancomycin and clindamycin for six to eight weeks intravenously and then give you a course of an antibiotic called Bactrim for two weeks orally. With the right antibiotics, the sepsis should subside quickly, and we can get you off the intravenous blood pressure medication.

“Because getting up and moving is vital to the healing process, we have scheduled the debridement procedure for noon today and expect you to be up and walking tomorrow morning. You’ll have restrictions on your left leg for quite some time and need at least two to three months of rehabilitation. We will discuss pertinent information starting tomorrow.”

Dr. Farmstein stepped closer to the bed, stethoscope in hand. “We know this is difficult news to hear. We are happy to answer any further questions or concerns you may have before the procedure. There are mild risks involved, including bleeding, blood clots, allergic reactions to the antibiotic, and further surgical infection. We feel that this is the best course of treatment for your injury and continued healing. Full recovery should be expected.”

Mac took a steadying breath. Sure, they had told him he _could_ lose his leg the night before, but that didn’t mean it would happen. He was gonna get through this. He had his family around him, he had some of the best physicians in the state caring for him, and damn Gio and his group weren’t around to fuck shit up any further. Well, Anton was still alive, but he was going to jail for the foreseeable future after his own course of medical treatment from Riley and Bozer’s quick thinking with the poison oak.

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

The docs completed a joint assessment, listening to Mac’s heart, lungs, and belly, peeking at his burn, bruising, and leg wound, and made sure all questions and concerns were addressed. They left a few minutes later and it was like a held breath was released from _everyone_ in the room.

“Shit, that was tense,” Bozer remarked, forehead furrowed in concern. “They couldn’t have made that any more nerve wracking?!”

Matty gave Boze a playful slap to the back of the head. “They were just doing their job, Boze.”

Jack managed a smirk as he watched Boze frown and rub the back of his head, pouting.

“So – now what?” Riley had curled up in Jack’s spot, the window seat warm from the small amount of sun shining through dark ominous clouds. It was January in Seattle, after all. The place was known for the perpetual gloominess and rain that came in off the Pacific Ocean and settled in the Puget Sound. 

“Work never sleeps,” Matty groused, rolling her eyes as she heard her phone go off for the eighth time in twenty minutes. “Jack, I need your help with interrogating Anton. He ended up getting flown to Overlake Medical Center in Issaquah, so it’s gonna be a bit of a drive. Riley, Bozer, you two keep tabs on Baby Einstein and update us on any changes. We should be back later this evening.

“We will discuss who gets to go back to Los Angeles tomorrow once we have a clearer picture of what recovery looks like for Mac. Any arguments?”

Bozer and Jack both held up their hands in mock surrender. “No, ma’am!”

Riley and Mac managed a simultaneous giggle, even though Mac was wincing in pain shortly after because _fuck ribs_. Who needs to breathe anyway?

Matty and Jack left in quick order, Jack demanding to hear about Mac and the procedure as soon as it was over. Riley and Bozer both promised to keep Jack updated when they knew more information. Mac waved the pair out of the room, hoping for some measure of quiet.

Eventually Bozer’s need for a shower won him over and he slipped out of the room, Mac awake but resting with his eyes closed. Riley had desired a moment alone with Mac and seeing Bozer leave for a shower gave her the opportune moment to chat with her surrogate brother. She grabbed the seat by the bed, resting her chin on the railing.

“You sure know how to worry us,” Riley said quietly.

Mac smirked, eyes still closed, body relaxed against the mattress. “Noble trait I’ve been told.”

“Ya know, when we got back to Freddie’s, you told Bozer and I that we had passed. Honestly, I didn’t give one thought about passing. You have far more worth than some grade that the Phoenix Foundation demands to keep up our skills. And when we – when we followed the trail of footprints and heard a gunshot, we reached a fifty-foot drop smothered in blood. We thought you were dead, Mac.”

Letting Riley and Bozer worry had been the last thing on Mac’s mind out in the woods. He did everything to protect them – at least, he hoped he did everything. And the fact that Gio had shot Cid because of him – made the admission that Riley and Bozer had believed it was Mac who had been shot even more unsettling.

They were bright individuals. Sure, everyone seemed dumb in comparison to his own smarts, but Mac valued the different intellectual aspects of his family. Riley was the most skilled computer science genius he had ever met. Even smarter than Nikki. And Bozer was a talented sculptor with a knack for quick thinking. Jack was his own person with his sniper skills and varied background involving Delta Force, the CIA, and any number of undercover gigs. Matty was a whipper-snapper with quality leadership skills. She also had a high propensity for humor. And when they were all together, they made the world a brighter place.  

He opened his eyes, giving her a gentle look. “I never meant to scare you. All I could think about was making sure Bozer and you stayed safe. When Gio threatened harm to both of you, I had to end the damn charade right then and there. I knew it wasn’t going to work out well for me in the end, but your safety was my priority.”

Riley shook her head. “Your self-preservation instincts are terrible. We both were so scared. Knowing that we might have caused more harm to you, by taking so long to get you to medical treatment, I – I don’t know what to say, Mac. I’m so sorry.”

“Wow, wow,” Mac said quickly, sitting up and reaching to put a hand on Riley’s shoulder. He winced, forgetting that moving was a gigantic pain, but he shoved it down, masking it behind a calming presence. “Hey, you didn’t get me sick. You also didn’t shoot me. And you did everything right to get me help. You got hurt yourself, Riley, and I never wanted this trip to come to that. The wilderness is dangerous enough without psychopathic thieves running around under-prepared. They had ulterior motives. The wilderness can be a beautiful experience if you prepare and take the time to respect it. And what Bozer and you did out there – I couldn’t be prouder. This? This is all Gio’s fault.” He gestured to his leg, to the bruising littering his skin. “You both did amazing out there. You followed my teaching and you used it when it counted. No matter what happens to me, know that you saved my life. Never regret that.”

Riley found herself crying by the end. She had been so scared that Mac had been killed out there. First when they found the blood and then when they heard that second gunshot. Too much had gone completely sideways while they had been out in the woods, but Mac was praising them for all the skills they had learned and utilized. They didn’t deserve him.

“I’m sorry I scared you. You know I never meant to.” His words were soft, calming. He could see her pain, felt her fear. He trusted his family with his life, and they trusted him with their lives. They were just repaying the favor after all the times he had saved them from every number of sticky situations. The nature of their job was always danger-fueled, but that didn’t mean they weren’t grateful for every moment of every day.

She looked up, wiping a stray tear away from her face. “Just get better, okay?”

He managed a laugh, regretting it almost immediately as his ribs protested. He rubbed them, frowning in mock irritation. “I’ll try, but damn if I’m not tired of getting my ass beat every other week.”

A smile broke through and Riley just shook her head. She understood that sentiment more than anything.

“Love you.”

She rubbed the back of her neck, a faint blush creeping up her already red cheeks. “Love you like a brother.”

* * *

 

Bozer returned from his shower shortly after their heart-to-heart and challenged Mac to a grueling game of Words with Friends. Riley just let them play it out over their smartphones, moving from her spot by the bed to a more comfortable position in the window seat. She was lulled to sleep by their laughing and bickering over word choices and points, even though they had little control over how the game functioned.

Eleven-thirty rolled around, and Josh was back to get Mac ready for surgery. Riley woke up just in time to see Josh and the transporter help move Mac from his bed to a cart, mindful of his pain. Once Mac was settled, the transporter kicked off the bed breaks and wheeled her brother out of the room. She waved, feeling a sense of loss as he once again headed for surgery. She silently prayed it was the last one for a good long while. Mac needed to heal, and he wasn’t going to be doing much of it so far from home.

Bozer took up pacing the room, fingers fiddling with his phone, his eyes watching the clock. Riley threw the pillow off the cot at his back when he was making his fiftieth turn around the room.

“Dude, you are giving me a headache! Stop pacing!”

“I’m nervous!”

“Then go be nervous somewhere else! You aren’t helping make time go by any faster!”

He huffed in frustration, throwing the pillow back at her and sulked out of the room. He needed coffee or _something_.

Almost two and a half hours after Mac had been taken to surgery, the clock just about to chime two in the afternoon, a groggy Mac was wheeled back into his familiar hospital room. Riley and Bozer both jumped up from the window seat, watching as Josh, the floor’s nurse aide and the transporter helped move Mac back into his own bed, his left leg wrapped tightly in gauze and once again propped up on two pillows.

The transporter left as Josh set up the blood pressure machine to cycle every fifteen minutes, his soft words asking Mac about his pain and his overall health. Mac had slits for eyes, his hands flaccid against the sheets. All he wanted to do was go to sleep, the anesthetics still circulating his system and the pain medication dulling the intensity throbbing from his left leg.

The debridement procedure hadn’t been the only thing that happened in the operating room. In the interim since Riley and Bozer had last seen their brother, his IV pole had gotten considerably smaller, with only the pain pump and a large bag of saline being infused. The central line that had been sticking out of Mac’s right neck was replaced with a pressure dressing and now there was a new line nestled in his left inner arm. Due to Mac’s long-term need for IV antibiotics, he required less invasive vascular access in the form of a peripherally inserted central catheter (PICC) line.

Bozer slipped into the seat by the bed, reaching for his brother’s hand and squeezing tight. Riley sat on the edge of the bed on Mac’s left side, mindful of jostling his left leg. She brushed away a sweat-soaked strand of hair, a sad smile on her face. He gave them both a weak smile before he let his eyelids fall shut. Mac mumbled something about feeling tired and was asleep in a matter of minutes.

They sat like that for an unknown amount of time, just keeping him company as he slept off the good drugs. Bozer did eventually text Jack with an update, but the surgeons had yet to stop by with any official news. Josh mentioned that the procedure had gone well, and Mac was stable. There wasn’t much to tell the over-bearing and over-protective Delta.

The afternoon passed by slowly. By the time Mac decided to wake up again, the clock was chiming seven at night and the nursing staff were changing guard once again. Jack and Matty had yet to return from their visit with Anton, but Jack had texted Bozer an hour before mentioning they were going to find food for everyone and be back in a couple of hours. Traffic in Seattle could be brutal, and Issaquah wasn’t exactly down the street from the trauma center.

Mac woke up in excruciating pain, his leg pulsating with every heartbeat. The direct application of antibiotic would surely clear out the infection, but that didn’t stop the leg from swelling with inflammation and irritation, pressing on his nerves and muscles. Not to mention the tissue damage incurred from the gunshot itself and the initial surgery that cleared out broken bone and replaced it with titanium. Mac was officially a hybrid – if only to tease Jack about the robot apocalypse again. Sparky was going to have a field day discussing Mac’s medical implant.

Riley tried to distract Mac from the pain, inviting him to talk about his current project in the lab back at the Phoenix. She failed miserably, his mind occupied by the pain and now nausea. He had no appetite, even after limited intake since before their wilderness survival training. Between the cattails and tasteless hospital food, he’d eaten about 500 calories in the past five days. He was gonna be even skinnier than usual when he got back home.

Bozer was rambling on about an article he had read regarding the current government shutdown and how frustrating it was that they weren’t getting a paycheck when there was a sharp knock on the glass door. All three agents looked at the door, Riley and Bozer suspicious, Mac looking mildly indifferent to the interruption. He was barely staying awake as it was, but Matty and Jack were supposed to be returning soon with real food in the form of pizza.

A familiar face poked through the small opening in the door, a huge smile on his face. “Anybody home?”

Mac was alert in an instant, a broad smile spreading across his face as he sat up. “Fred!”

The older gentleman slipped into the room, the curtain softly swooshing as he walked towards the bed. “Mac, my friend, it’s good to see you. Not necessarily in this situation, but I’m glad you got the help you needed.” He leaned in for a hug and Mac graciously returned the gesture, mindful of his new IV line.

“Gosh, I didn’t expect you to visit. You rarely ever leave that homestead.”

Freddie managed a laugh. “I get out once and a while. Matilda contacted me about your condition. Had to come visit, even if just for a few minutes.”

“It’s great to see you. Especially since I probably won’t be back out there for a few months. That bullet messed up my leg something fierce. Not gonna be wandering the woods for quite some time.” Mac looked disappointed, hating that rehab was gonna probably be just as long as it had been when he’d been shot at Lake Como. That had been almost three years prior.

“I’ll keep the door open for you anytime. But if you aren’t gonna be coming, do you think they’ll send Isaiah? Don’t get me wrong, he’s a fine substitute, he just doesn’t do the teasing like you do.” Freddie looked concerned, a hand coming up to stroke his beard. He’d met Mac’s wilderness survival trainer substitute Isaiah Washington twice before, and while the man had talent in terms of wilderness survival, he had no social skills whatsoever. He was a blank slate, and Freddie liked to joke with Mac about the newcomers.

Mac laughed. “Sorry, Freddie. Someone’s gotta do the training when I can’t. You’ll survive. Just keep better tabs on the woods, okay? Running into Gio and his group was not what I would call fun.”

Freddie grew instantly serious. “I had no idea they were there. I’m really sorry about what happened, Mac. And I’m sorry only one of them survived. I got the local police involved, got the sole survivor to a hospital. This won’t happen next time.”

Mac waved a hand at the older man. “Don’t worry about it. They weren’t exactly the most prepared of individuals. Not your fault.”

The sliding glass door was shoved open as Jack and Matty bounded into the room.

“Pizza!” Jack called out, two huge square cardboard boxes in his arms. Matty carried a bottle of soda and a bag of utensils and plates. The pizza found itself on Mac’s bedside table and Riley and Bozer crowded around, eyes shining with hunger.

Mac just smiled, watching his family. Freddie joined in on the party, taking a piece of pizza and munching on it happily. For the first time in quite a few days, the mood was light. The road ahead would be long and filled with pain and frustration, but Mac was just glad all of his family – and friends – were safe and sound. Seeing them before him, enjoying pizza and chatting up a storm brought a warm fuzzy feeling to his chest. He loved them, there was no doubt in his mind about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter. I almost could have ended it here, but I have another important scene in my head. It'll be a quick chapter (ha, I say that, but I also tend to write and ramble on. Go figure)
> 
> Thank you again for all the comments and kudos! You guys are so amazing!
> 
> All mistakes, grammatical errors, and incorrect facts are my fault. I also don't own anything - boo.


	5. Chapter 5

“Pain pills?”

“In my backpack.”

“Antibiotics?”

“In the cooler.”

“Medication schedule?”

“In the cooler.”

“Phone?”

Mac patted the seat under his right thigh. “Right where I shoved it ten minutes ago, Jack.”

“Snacks?”

“In my backpack.”

“Comfortable?”

The positioning wasn’t exactly ideal, but Mac would live with it. Due to movement and weight bearing restrictions on his leg and the pain that still pulsated angrily, he couldn’t sit normally in the front seat. There was no way he was driving his Jeep all the way back to Los Angeles, so Jack would be the chauffer and Mac would be lying in the backseat for the entire road trip home. Two pillows propped up his left leg, which was closest to the back of the seat. A pillow was shoved between his back and the car door. Getting in and out of the car was no easy feat, but Jack was a strong caregiver. Crutches would be Mac’s friend for weeks to come, even with the scheduled rehabilitation starting in ten days. Until then, he wasn’t allowed to walk on his left leg – not that he wanted to with the pain.

“I’m good, Jack. Now, will you stop helicopter parenting, so we can go home? I love Seattle, but I miss my own bed.”

Jack chuckled, carefully slamming the driver passenger side door, mindful of Mac’s feet. He climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine.

“Willie Nelson?”

Mac had promised Jack he could listen to whatever he wanted, considering Mac had no control over the radio from his backseat position. It was gonna be a long trip back to Los Angeles down Interstate 5 if all they listened to was Willie Nelson. Internally, Mac was groaning. He was nursing another headache to match his aching leg, but it wasn’t time for another Percocet.

“Whatever you want, Jack. Just take me home.”

The past five days had been a whirlwind. The day after the debridement surgery, two new nurses caring for Mac had forced him to get up out of bed, with the contingency he didn’t put any weight on his left leg. It wasn’t easy, especially when moving even just a little bit sent shooting pain through his leg and up into his torso. But he got up, a walker his new best friend that first day. He didn’t even make it out of the room, hobbling around in circles and trying not to curse the nurses, the nurse aid, or the therapists trying to help him out.

Matty, Bozer, and Riley all had to get back to work, so they said their goodbyes that same day, promising to keep tabs on Mac’s condition and progress through an ever-vigilant Jack. He was the only one who got to stay behind. Mac really hated the helicopter parenting, but Jack was his partner and overwatch, so it seemed only fitting he got to stay behind while the doctors tweaked medications and case management connected with Phoenix Medical in Los Angeles for discharge.

Mac progressed from a walker to crutches the next day, getting out in the hallway and walking ever so slowly around the unit. However, his biggest issue wasn’t hobbling around, it was the pain. The pain was intolerable. The pain pump disappeared the day after surgery and was replaced with oral narcotics like hydromorphone and oxycodone. The hydromorphone worked, but it also made Mac hallucinate rather unpleasantly. After a lot of further tweaking, Percocet (a mixture of oxycodone and Tylenol) was ordered for around-the-clock management and oxycodone for breakthrough pain. A middle ground was found, and Mac was finally able to manage more time out of bed – walking, going to the bathroom, sitting up in the chair with his leg elevated.

Finally, Mac was getting out of the hospital. Two days after learning to use his new friend, the crutches, the doctors decided he could do just as much healing, moving, and resting back home in Los Angeles. Because he had to drive back to southern California, he was going to miss too many doses of antibiotics to make the physicians feel comfortable letting him out. Case management worked with a local pharmacy and home health agency to set up enough antibiotics to get Mac from point A to point B. They were self-administering infusion balls filled with the appropriate antibiotic, and with a dedicated schedule written out by the day shift nurse, Mac and Jack could easily follow the instructions to set up the antibiotic and let it do its thing. Once back in Los Angeles, he’d get regular antibiotic infusions through Phoenix Medical.

Needless to say, Mac had learned a lot about the medical world in a short amount of time. Orthopedic procedures, wound management, central line care, infusion management, antibiotics and narcotics, crutches, and everything else in-between. He would deal with this new reality for at least twelve more weeks, continuing the antibiotics for at least six more weeks and go through rehab for at least ten weeks. He wasn’t going to be out in the field for a handful of months. Thankfully, he could do part of his job from the War Room, so he wasn’t going to be entirely bored.

Going home was the best thing Mac could ever ask for. After roughing it in the wilderness, getting shot, and spending a week in the hospital, he welcomed the thought of his own bed and his own bathroom.  

Jack slipped a Willie Nelson CD into the player and turned up the music. “LET’S GO HOME!”

Mac smiled, laughing as Jack yee-hawed onto the highway. It would be quite the road trip. Bring it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, but sweet. I hope. 
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read, comment, and kudos! I feel loved, truly!
> 
> As a gift of gratitude, I'm gonna leave you guys with a teaser for my long MacGyver fanfic. I'm hoping this summer to start posting (I know, that's forever from now, and I'm sure I'll write one-shots between now and then) but I have schoolwork to focus on and I've told myself I'm not allowed to start posting this long fic until I have the majority of it written. Anyway, the angst - it'll be strong.
> 
> Burn the Ships teaser: When Mac is diagnosed with an aggressive lymphoma, his whole world gets flipped upside down. Between juggling a complicated work life affected by his diagnosis, handling the rigorous treatment and complications related to his cancer, and navigating the healthcare system for the best possible outcomes in a disease that just won’t seem to retreat, Mac is forced to learn what it means to not look back. He faces his own mortality in a very personal way, in ways that his career as a covert spy cannot prepare him for. He is not one to give up – but sometimes life just doesn’t go the way we planned.


End file.
